What's in Poets' Letter Ellspread
What's in Poets' Letter Ellspread
| Featured Poet of the Month | Purely Poetry | The Name of the Poet | Poet on the Web | Poet of the Month | Poet in Residence |
| Novel Corner | Furthermore | Arts and Arts Actualisation | Poetre Performance Listings | Poetry More | Poetry Collection of the Month |
| Book Reviews | Short Stories | Micro Stories | Dot Stories | Prozzitries | Book of the Month |
| Plays | Screenplays | Translit | Science and Technology | Online | Humanion |
| Festivals | News | Theatre Reviews | Music | Events | Films |
| Poetry Films | Interviews | Politics | Philosophy | Reading | Photography |
| What's the Papers Say | Legalite | Cosmography | Humanics | Columns | Architecture |
| Poetry England | London Poetry | Scottish Poetry | Wales Poetry | Irish Poetry | Poetry Europe |
| Poetry America | Poetry Canada | Poetry Australia | Poetry New Zealand | Poetry Hong Kong | Poetry World |
First of all, what is Ellspread? This is what we call Ellspread where a whole issue of the magazine is published on one whole continuous page housing all the contents and their poets and authors together instead of publishing them on different pages. This we do deliberately to encourage visitors to read works of poets and writers that they may not know or read about before. The whole page therefore looks like one expression holding the whole diversity together. and this is Poets' Letter's Ellspread.
Featured Poet of the Month
Featured Poet of the Month: Here we publish the best of poetry being written today. Poets published here are highly talented and have been writing poetry for a considerable time even if they have not been published before. A combination of both published and established poets as well as new and emerging voices are published here. You won't be published here if poetry is a fashion or an "amateur" thing for you. Here, you ought to be able to tell the world that you are born to write poetry and that you do not know any other way of being. If this is the case than this is your space. What do we publish here: Five poems, a short biography with a photo to go with. You retain the copyrights. But we treat Poets' Letter Online as though it is a print magazine in terms of its history. So once featured you are here so long Poets' Letter is here; meaning your works shall then be archived for "eternity"! By submitting to us you are consenting for us to do that. In no circumstances we will take off your works once published and archived. BUT YOU SHALL ALWAYS RETAIN THE COPYRIGHTS OF YOUR WORKS. When archived you will have your own author page on the archive where your works will be displayed. For details, please read the submission guidelines! And do read on over the writings we have published over the last five years to gather a sense of what we do publish. The quality of your works is the guarantee of publication: nothing else. Generally we publish one to two featured Poets a month but if we get more good quality submissions we publish as many many as we have.
Purely Poetry
Here we publish one or two poems of young and emerging poets who have just started out and have promise in their works and they might be asked to submit more works in the future for the Featured Poets Slot. If you are just starting out this space is for you.
The Name of the Poet
This section presents an "essential poet" of today according to our editorial opinion and there is no submission for this section. We look out for the voices for this section. However, if you know of a Sylvia Plath or a Ted Hughes or John Keats writing away and need to be found and presented to the world please send us a line about them and we will try to accommodate it.
Poet on the Web
This section presents a poet from the range of voices that can be found published online on the internet and publishes some of their links where people could read their works. Again, we do that ourselves but you are welcome to suggest such poets if you think they ought to be taken to wider audience.
Poet of the Month
This Section presents another poet from the emerging voices, particularly from the range of Poetre or Performance Poetry scene around the country. If you know of someone that ought to be presented here please send us a line.
Poet in Residence
This is a special Mentoring Programme we do for young and emerging poets who have started writing and are talented but could do with some guidance, tips and supportive advice and suggestions from us. This is a month-long Residency whereby the poet works with our Editor and get the mentoring experience as well as get published and promoted by Poets' Letter. What do these Resident Poets get:
They get their own Poet in Residence Page where their biography with a photo, a piece as to why they write poetry and some of their poems will be published. But during the month they will have to write at least four poems and post them on their page and they can write any other piece of writing if they wanted to. They can publish their performance details and publication details etc there.
But the catch is this: though initially their works have been published on the page the new pieces of works that they will write and submit will not just be published as they would be expected to show that these poems are substantially of better quality than their previous works. To achieve that our Editor will work through with you and suggest ways and means and offer tips and you than work on with the poem till it is ready. There is no force involved here. It is merely a process in which we try to make the poet becoming more and more aware of their own writing process and begin to critique their own works.
If the Residency goes okay than the Poet might be made either Poet of the Month or Featured Poet of the Month if they had sufficient materials.
They retain their page after the Residency. If this Residency proved to be a successful one than we consider the poet for a Residency at the London Poetry Festival that offers them a different type of experience as a poet.
How do you apply for this? Just send us an email saying that you would like to be considered for the position and send us a short biography and five poems and we will take it from their.
But this is no passive exercise. Without your commitment to it it won't work and we won't offer it to you. For we do it for FREE and we would rather offer this to someone who would genuinely be supported with our time.
Novel Corner
This is a new section where we publish excerpts of novels with an author biography, a synopsis of the novel and an excerpt.
Furthermore
Furthermore is a news and comments kind of page where reviews, comments or opinions can be expressed on anything to do with all forms of human creativity, writing and publishing etc. Please send in any such piece for publication here.
Arts and Arts Actualisation
This publishes news and reviews of arts, painting, drawing, sculpture, design etc as well as debates and discussions about the state of Arts and Arts Funding and such issues. We publish works of new and emerging artist here as well.
Poetre Performance Poetry Listings
By Poetre we mean Poetry theatre and any other Poetry Performance or Performance Poetry. This section is listings for such performances and events taking place across London, across England, UK and across the Globe for that matter. So please send in your event details for this section.
Poetry More
This is a section where we publish our established poets whose works we have already featured as Featured Poets and here we would publish one or two poems of such poets. And generally we would invite the poets for such a piece though sometime they feel like sending us a poem themselves.
Poetry Collection of the Month
This section highlights a new poetry collection by a new poet whose works ought to be supported and promoted.
Book Reviews
This section does book reviews both book reviews and audio book reviews. If you would like to review books for us please contact us. However, we are interested to review books by young, new and emerging poets and writers and chances are that they are being published by small press or a collective of friends etc. If you happen to read such a good book and would like to review it for us please send the review and we will consider it.
Short Stories
Here we publish short stories. So please send submissions. Simple.
Micro Stories
Here we publish micro stories. Here is an example of what a micro story looks or feels or reads like.
An Act and Two People: Micro Story by Munayem Mayenin
He stood by the window, drew the heavy and dirty curtain. The cold showed its
face on the window’s dust and dirt having wet them with drops of water. He
went to the window to stand and stare and smoke his cigarette. It was way
passed midnight and yet he could not sleep. Immigrant eyes could not sleep so
easily. Back home and memories came back and haunted him. He sighed, thinking
of his wife. He had been waiting for her to join him for four years now!
He works at a take away, takes orders, yes sir, thank you sir, your change sir
etc and then having eaten something after midnight he pulls the shutter, puts
off the lights and comes upstairs to sleep. The whole village seemed to be
deep in sleep. He could, at night, hear his breathing.
The first floor where he stays has a big room, at the middle of which there
was a big table full of old magazines, newspapers, ashtrays, an alarm clock
covered with dust and a few never read books.
There were two other floors up, empty. At night he could feel the ghosts of
silence tiptoeing over these floors as soundlessly as they possibly could,
because he could not hear any footsteps. It sometimes scared him to be honest.
He stood there and looked outside for no apparent reasons-an empty and
meaningless stare. He wondered as to what time it would be in his own country
now and what his wife might be doing”
That twenty year old young girl, Emma was still sitting at the bus stop
opposite his room. He knew Emma for at least last four years. Emma and her
boyfriend Jacob had been regular customers to his take away.
Last night at about nine Emma walked into the take away. She looked very down
and she appeared to have bruised and black eyes. Anil welcomed her as usual,
however, Emma seemed to be in a different place all together. She sat near the
gas fire and read all the newspapers and magazines including their small
prints, Anil reckoned by the time he became little bit freer. That must have
been half past ten!
Anil went to her and sat down beside her.
“You alone today! Jacob not around?”
“No.” Emma’s full stop answer. Anil understood the message. He did not think
she had any money to buy anything. He felt bad about it. What could he do!
Should he offer her a meal on credit or something! Offering a free meal might
be offensive to her!
However, he abandoned the idea. About eleven o’clock Emma left the take way.
“Good night!” said Anil. No reply came back.
It was two in the morning. It must be minus twelve in this frozen December
night. It rained all night. Chilly wind and occasional thunderstorm came and
went. He saw Emma sitting at the bust stop when he came upstairs.
She was now almost half wet. The chilly wind was blowing her hair off. She was
shivering badly. She had jeans and a polo shirt on!
Anil thought for a second. What could he do? Or could he do anything at all?
He drew the curtain back on. Came back to the table and put off his cigarette
and went to bed!
Anil could not sleep! He kept thinking about Emma and how she was shivering.
He could hear the thunder storm blowing outside and the shower.
He got up and walked downstairs and went to the door. He opened the door and
called, “Emma! Emma!”
To Emma his called seemed an invitation to heaven. She ran like a child to its
mother after having a long separation.
Anil let her in and locked the door. He put on the gas fire and asked her to
sit down.
“Excuse me, I’ll be back in a sec”. said Anil and he went into the kitchen.
Emma was shivering and appeared as though she was trying to get the heat of
the heater pushed though her nose and mouth!
Anil came with a plate of rice and some curry.
“You should eat something!”
Emma ate the food without a word and had the coke silently as though no one
including her existed in the room.
Anil then said, “What’s the matter Emma? What happened?”
Emma broke into tears like a child. Anil felt awkward as to how to respond. He
offered a tissue.
“Listen, it is going to be alright! Trust me, tomorrow this would seem
nothing!”
That’s what he could manage to say.
“ The son of a bitch threw me out on Christmas eve! He literally threw me out
in such a night! Can you believe it! I lived with him for four years now!”
Emma was furious and sounded very muddled up. Her voice crackled.
Anil did not know how to respond. He did not think and just did what he did.
He offered Emma his bad and said, “Look, Emma, I know this is awkward! But how
could I leave you at this bus stop like this! You would be dead by morning! I
will sleep on that single bed over there.”
“But that bed is full of stuff! How could you sleep there!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it. You go ahead!”
“Thank you so much Anil” Emma said. Then she added shyly, “Can I borrow a
fag?” Anil obliged.
Both of them went to their respective beds. It was dark. The storm was getting
stronger outside. The rain became heavier. Both of them were smoking in their
bed. Two red eyes of storm were forming by their cigarettes when they puffed.
Anil could hear Emma breathing and turning left and right, so could Emma
Anil’s. They were so self aware that they forgot that the world existed but
them.
“Is she scared of me or something!” Anil thought.
Emma did not say anything but Anil could feel how worried she was by the sound
of her breathing!
Anil could not sleep. It disturbed him. However, he could understand why Emma
was feeling whatever she was feeling.
They both fell asleep without knowing. Anil got up at seven and having
completed his bathroom chores of the morning went downstairs into the kitchen
to make something to eat.
Anil heard foot steps and came out of the kitchen. He saw Emma leaving. He
stood there and looked at her disappearing! He went back to the kitchen!
He never saw her again! He never told about this to anyone, yet occasionally
wondered about the way Emma left in the morning without even telling him! Why
did she leave the way she did! What did Anil do that was so wrong!
For more microstories visit the author's website. Microstories are what Munayem Mayenin had been writing at University in the eighties and still he does.
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin 2008-09
Dot Stories
Here we publish dot stories. Here is an example of a dot story.
Radha: Dot Story by Munayem Mayenin
Radha was my Matilde! But since I am no poet she never got sonnets and
songs of love and despairs from me! Yet, she always kissed me with her
soul making me a song, making me a sonnet and let me live that sonnet,
that song with her in little moments which are the only stamps I have
got to show for my living of this life! I lived in only moments’ that
would fall from her mouth like honey-drop, like April’s wet-leaf letting
go a silver drop of water and I would be the space taking it in. I only
have memories of a few moments scattered across the peninsula of
despairs and desolation of a life spent in not being loved: a stone of
Stonehenge, a rock without any moss growing over its deathly face.
One of those moments with Radha, I remember, we were standing outside
The Lyric. Evening’s mouth was open and, the sky was loving enough to
let silver flow in her open bloom. We stood beneath the bright yellow
lights, smoking. She and I, standing next to each other, almost
touching. I felt my being arched towards her and hers mine forming an
arch of our souls connecting us while the white smoke rose upwards
through the yellow canvas of lights that grew over us making us almost a
bridge stuck on the ground that felt the seismic earthquakes that were
breaking our hearts, raging.
Radha does not speak: Radha whispers velvet pearls, lilac clouds, purple
Lunaria Annua, mint green tea smoke, rising. Radha flows out like water
flow on a spring and she makes me the spring bed. In those moments I
touched her back, just. She spoke of her being at the Frankfurt Book
Fair earlier in the year. She said she was going to Switzerland for a
week or two. I looked at her in that wonderful evening that must have a
memory of how astonishingly radiant she looked but nothing will ever
know how my eyes saw her for that image of her made my heart bled of
millions of needle stitches numbers of which must not be revealed. Had I
have the power that evening I would have created a new universe and
taken her into it and become a bubble of our own bursting like
imsillions of supernovas! She looked a light-wet young bride, a living
song. I called her in my mind My Bride since that evening. But she has
never been my bride for we were on different points of the grid; always
singing from the wrong song sheet.
Today, I remember it since, somehow, The Lyric came back to my mind and
I went back to those few short moments outside The Lyric, standing
beside Radha, looking at my own heart outside taken the shape of her
body. Those moments became my life-times and sustained me to be the
rock, the dead rock with no moss over it or the mute bleeding Stonehenge
stone burying myself and my dreams continuously and the cold cold cold
knife of desert desolation chopping on making a fire of being left
outside: unloved. But Radha is my stamp for I forever loved her and sung
her; Radha, my Beautiful Bride!
Dot stories are what Munayem Mayenin started writing in recent years and has perfected the shape of it. For more visit the author website.
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin 2008-09
Ifa’s M:Dot Story by Munayem Mayenin
Ifa has sent me an M from Nigeria a land of black pearls and brilliant
spread of beautiful earth singing so many a diverse songs at the same
time and her M is doing that to me as I speak. A cowrie shell! An Mbuum!
Ifa’s M!
Why did she leave in the first place! Why won’t she come home! Why won’t
she let me come and bring her home! No, she is a dreamer: loving you but
won’t let you love her; if this is designed to drive you to absolute
lunacy, then hers is the most successful strategy of the greatest of
wars!
I try to imagine this river is coming from the Ifa Mountain carrying her
ring and watch and I keep a look out, scanning the silver pearl waves on
the ever changing roof of the current humming the sea in high tide like
my heart humming Ifa.
Do I find the ring? Do I find the watch? No, instead a 2P coin lands on
the steps like a brown kiss on my palm. I keep it like the core of the
earth, if I ever find home or if Ifa ever comes home, to give it to her!
Ifa’s M is still eating away my heart as I walk back carrying empty
Sahara inside being wet silently while my heart is nothing but the steam
blocking and choking the lid of the kettle of my throat and my eyes now
is a monsoon sky’s blur.
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin 2008-09
Liz’s Moonscape-head: Dot Story by Munayem Mayenin
This urge became Liz. She now held the university library microphone as
the librarian left for the loo and started talking: Attention all boys
in year Your Chance is Naught! This is Liz. Why won’t you leave me alone
when you know I am not alone! If you do not believe me I have Dr
Matthews, the Vice Chancellor, here, to validate it!
Everyone was stunned, strung up, open mouthed but Liz was standing dead,
disarrayed and red next to the real body of Dr Matthews, smiling: That’s
right, leave this young woman alone, boys! She is with me!’ Liz looked
at him thinking in a blank, moonscape-head: Holly Cow!
Dr Matthews suddenly realised the implication of what he had just said
and felt embarrassed, red and promptly said: Indeed it is a great April
fool’s day venture from Liz! However, I mean it boys: leave her alone.
Saying this he left, smiling; leaving Liz standing there, a red statue
while her friends were knitted at their seats, glued in silence.
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin 2008-09
Prozzitries
We publish Prozzitries here and here is an example of what a prozzitry is.
Briony Says: Prozzitries By Munayem Mayenin
This little group of children play inside this hall in a circle on the wooden floor where the golden brown colour of the wood glistens like smiling lights on the face of a happy golden brown ocean and these children float on it with their voices falling like invisible waves. Their teacher, standing tall in her red hair and black shirt and creamy grey jeans at the middle, speaks softly. She is playing with them Simon says. Simon says: Touch your nose and immediately all the noses are arched by the fingers.
As soon as I hear Simon says I hear Briony says! I always hear Briony says! No one thinks about Briony when they play Simon says. Well, no one even thinks about Simon either when they play Simon says! Simon does not say anything for he has never anything to say for poor Simon got robbed off his voice!
For how do we know what Simon says! We never ask what he is going to say! We just pretend that we know what he might say! But Simon, if we are imagining him saying, would ask us to do better things than just touch our nose or bend our knees! He could say: Get up on your feet and walk like ants and then go searching the wood!
He might say: Dig the earth and see what darkness is laid beneath the earth where lights never reach. He might say: Close your eyes and see whether you could still figure out the shapes of the lights or close your eyes and see whether you could let this face of the most beautiful thing you know disappear and see whether actually you could!
He might say: Instead of staying stuck at your sofa, why not get up and go and walk outside! He might say: Instead of zombie-staying on the train or glue-stacking on the tube with silence as your staccato twin sister or on the bus dazed by unappreciated lights or wherever being dislocated, why not speak to the strangers! Why not break the wii fit and take your family and play made up cricket games where even the two year old has a stake to play!
But we do not listen to what Simon might say let alone listen to what Briony might say. For we are all into Simon for we think Simon is Simple! Simon is simple because of our poverty, not his! If we wanted to Simon could beat Einstein or Marie Currie or Shakespeare or Monet or Mozart for that matter.
But I will tell you what Briony might say, she would tell you about the most beautiful things you may think of but, only you cannot think of, for she comes from the land of Misticious Mythsonium where everything is possible, everything is probable and everything is as real as you make them to be. If you think a shape that has no volume or area can exist then it does! You do not believe me! Where is your mind! What shape is it? What is the area of your mind? What is the volume of it? Do you know!
Now, Misticious Mythsonium is a place that produced Briony with a great great imagination that takes you places and here Briony is not your Simon, Briony is as good as it gets to a human, and she would tell you--------
Let’s play Briony says!
Briony says: Imagine that the rug beneath your feet is the magic carpet and now take me somewhere!
Where are you going to take her! You do not know for she will not let you take her to the wii fit or wee computer or wii lethargico legsitlegit! Take her somewhere! Don’t dare thinking about Ibiza or Pizza Hut!
Can you? Why not!
Take her to a place where people smile as butterflies do, where people shake hands as the bees do, where people walk light like crickets do, where people know their neighbours like the pigeons do, where people know people’s names like the teachers know the names of their students.
But you do not know any such place, do you?, for they are not on the telly or radiolly or paperelly! How do you take her to a place that you do not know!
Briony might say: What if I take you to a place where you spend hours walking and not getting tired or worried about your safety or your house being burgled or car being vandalised and people are minding their own business yet connected with an invisible muslin thread so that they are not scared and absolutely at liberty! But you would not want to go there for it is not in your neighbourhood! It is not in your country!
Briony says: Take off your hands from that cake tin! This tin is filled with cakes that are from Tesco! They are cold, they are dried and they have no aroma in them at all. They have no taste but you eat them like a machine anyway.
Briony says: Bake your own cake and I want a piece of it! But you do not have a recipe book! Briony says: So what! Why not make your own? She will even help you with one or two ideas! Oh no! You would rather have Julia Bucklebeaglebugsome’s sexy recipe book or the dvd of goddessdivaqueenofshiva showing you how to bake a cake! But tell you what Briony is not going to even touch your cake and she would not even want to play for she wants you to take part in it! You are not taking part, are you? You find her patronising! Why? Remember only arrogant people get patronised! Do not be arrogant for arrogance is the cause of all the falls that have taken place in human history! Look at the bees! How hard they are at work and how delicately, how diligently they gather the sublime nectar from the offerings of the earth and how they carry humility in their little bodies and wings!
Briony is what you are not. Briony is what you do not want to be. Briony is the country that you do not know. Briony is the place that you do not believe in. Briony is like Simon you half believe and half ignore!
If Briony is the teacher in this hall she will ask the children: What is the colour you have just made up! What are you going to call it? She would have asked: What is the country you have just discovered! She would have asked: How does the galaxy look like that you have just dreamt about! She would have asked: What is the star that shines in your dreams! She would have asked: The park where you play what other animals are there that live and play there that only you can see! Briony would have said: Let’s go and try to make a shape that did not exist! Let’s go and chase up the grass or make butterfly form a balloon of floating wings or chase the colours to form a rainbow without rain!
Or better still, Briony would have got you to actually get a rainbow made of darkness, making it appear in shades and would have given you a set of alphabet and letters to write the names of these shades. She would have shown you how to go beyond Einstein’s Quantum Physics and learn how to build space crafts that can use darkness to fuel it making it light and making it possible for it to go by infinite velocity reaching anywhere in the universe in zero time! She probably would have made you make and sing a song in a language that is not your language but you have just discovered it! Briony would have got you to learn other languages to show you how beautiful they are, all of them! Briony would have shown you how beautiful these villages are on this earth like beauty spots and she would have taught you that you need not bother with passports and id cards for everyone has a name and that is good enough in this universe to your identity! Briony would have taught you how to travel and live light only carrying your eye-catches and your sensedine memories!
But like Simon, Briony is not here and you are; poor little thing sitting glued at your sofa, staring at the telly screen, feeling miserably lethargic! I give you Briony, listen to her and try to cajole yourself to stand up and imagine that you have an infinite pair of arms and you can reach any galaxy you like and this one that you just touch does not have a name! Briony says: Name it! What are you going to name it! Not England! Not Africa! Not Japan! Not Milky Way! Name it something that marks you with it! How does it look! How many light years does its diameter encompass! How many black holes or stars does it have! What are you going to call it, this new galaxy of yours! Where is it! How can we sing it into a song that makes you into a Briony!
Come on! Briony says: Pluck this galaxy and name it. Briony says she can see it on your hair now! It looks astounding and it makes you look awesome. I could hear you are
humming! Briony knows you are humming for I could feel it since Briony is my country, my universe and I keep my eyes and ears open to listen to every flow of her being!
Briony Says is from Munayem Mayenin's Prozzitry Collection Indira's Heart. Prozzitries are what Munayem Mayenin had been writing at University days in the eighties. For more visit the author website.
Copyrights @ Munayem Mayenin 2008-09
Book of the Month
Here we choose a book, a good book and not published by a giant of a publisher and a big brand name but a poet or author like yourself who is struggling to get heard so to offer it our support.
Plays
Here we publish excerpts of plays and particularly verse plays or poetre.
Screenplays
Here we publish excerpts of screenplays that are not taken on by the woods nor the big brands.
Translit
Here we publish Poetry translated into English from other languages as well as English Poetry translated into other languages
Science and Technology
Self explanatory
Online
Issues to do with online and the internet and relates to arts
Humanion
Issues to do with the Humankind, the world, the globe, the people, the whole race of the humanion.
Festivals
News and listings of all and every kind of Festivals
News
News and views on all the issues that we are interested in
Theatre Reviews
Theatre Reviews but not the big theatre but the small and low budget productions taking place in the grassroots.
Music
Events
Films
Poetry Films
Interviews
Politics
Philosophy
Reading
Tell us what you are reading and what people should read.
Photography
What's the Papers Say
A digest of what the main papers are saying across the globe.
Legalite
Legal issues, human rights and civil liberties and fundamental freedoms. We are particularly interested in writings to continue the Humanion's eternal war to stop death sentences across the globe which are nothing but murders orchestrated by the states that have no moral validity or power or imperative to do so.
Cosmography
Geography of the Universe
Humanics
The running and management of human affairs in a new way other than adversarial politics and economics and jurisprudence
Columns
Architecture
Poetry England
London Poetry
Scottish Poetry
Wales Poetry
Irish Poetry
Poetry Europe
Poetry America
Poetry Canada
Poetry Australia
Poetry New Zealand
Poetry Hong Kong
Poetry World
For details on how to submit please visit the Submissions Guidelines
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